


It's Different in 2-D

by MeriKG



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sex, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-25 22:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20033593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeriKG/pseuds/MeriKG
Summary: Recently fallen Castiel is slowly adjusting to being human.  In all its perks and flaws.  Dean, of course, is happy to help with both aspects.  But with the good comes some bad memories for both guys.  Some hurt/comfort, mostly sex, because Destiel.  (Mentions of dubcon in the past, not explicit.)





	It's Different in 2-D

**Author's Note:**

> My summaries are terrible. Also, i have no beta. I apologize for any typos and that summary.

Castiel, well ‘Steve’ as he’d become his unfortunate de-Angeling courtesy of Metatron, cashed out the middle-aged female chatting away on her cell phone, moving with the ease of frequent practice. Experience had taught him that attempting any form of articulation at this point was useless; the woman wouldn’t acknowledge him unless she found something amiss in how he handled her customer service.

Apparently he’d managed to get everything more or less correct, because the woman walked away with her purchases without ever having exchanged eye contact, much less dialogue with him. 

He looked up as the next customer came to his queue, his hand subconsciously clenching tight around the little price scanner. He was here; again.

It was still discomfiting to see Dean Winchester in this fashion, purely in the flesh. It seemed so… two-dimensional, when Dean was anything but. Cas was accustomed to seeing the vibrant golden glow threaded heavily with swirlings of deepest jade and turbulent storm-cloud grey that was Dean's soul energy cascading around his mortal form, his overabundance of aura overwhelming the mundanity of Dean’s physical body. He'd initially believed that his inability to view that glittering wave to be a crushing loss. A mistaken viewpoint on his part. One that had changed the first time Dean had found him, escorting his sadly mortal form to the Bunker. 

One look at the purely, viscerally mortal form of Dean Winchester had rendered Cas completely speechless. For in losing his natural Angelic Sight, Castiel had actually Seen Dean. Say what you would about the salty Hunter, but physically he was a truly magnificent specimen of his kind.

Dean stood at the counter empty handed, hadn’t even bothered with the superficial motions of finding items to purchase. And he wore that same toothy smile as the last time he’d appeared at Cas’ register, the one that always guaranteed trouble. What instinct Cas had left to him kicked in and he eyed the Hunter warily.

“What do you want, Dean? I’m busy.” 

Harsh words, but Cas was still smarting from being kicked out of the Bunker, a place of refuge, safety, hot water and hotter burritos. Logically, he understood Dean’s concerns. And he also knew that if the danger was only directed at Dean, then Cas would even now have his own room in the Winchester’s luxuriant abode. But his presence apparently impacted Sam’s safety in some way, and Dean would let the world burn if it kept his brother safe. 

“Busy, huh?” Dean parroted, raising an eyebrow. “Well, according to this,” and Dean held aloft a presumably pilfered copy of the Gas N Sip employee schedule. “You are officially off in five minutes.”

Technically true. But Cas very seldom left on time; it wasn’t as if he had anywhere to be. Typically, once he couldn’t validate loitering any longer, he hid in the storeroom until the store closed for the night and it was safe to emerge.

“What do you want?” Cas tried again. 

Dean shrugged, the move oddly graceful, subtly calling attention to his impressively wide, muscular shoulders. Not that Dean was sufficiently self-aware to notice. 

“I was in the area,” he told the ex-angel who was currently glaring at him across the coffee-stained counter. “I’m starving and was getting ready to head out to grab some grub. Wondered if you’d like to tag along?”

Yes, yes he would. Very much, in fact. Cas too, was on the wrong side of famished, and the idea of eating food that didn’t come encased in plastic wrap frankly thrilled him. Castiel made some money, true, but he was still slightly intimidated but the idea of restaurants. And he wasn’t exactly rolling in dough. Anything more ambitious than fast food was nearly beyond his means. But he had no intention of telling Dean any of that.

Then his belly rumbled, his all-too-human body betraying him at the primal level. Cas ducked away, refusing to acknowledge Dean’s knowing chuckle.

“Think about it. My treat. I’ll be out in the back parking lot,” Dean told him, wrapping his knuckles on the counter before strolling away. 

Ten minutes later, a disgruntled and slightly disheveled Castiel made his way out the back door towards the rear parking lot. As promised, the shiny black Impala waited in the far corner, her owner leaning casually against the hood perusing a newspaper. No doubt looking for a job; Dean became edgy if he was too long off a hunt.

Cas scowled at the unhidden amusement in the bright green eyes that met his over the top of the paper, hopping into the car without saying a word and crossing his arms over his chest. He maintained his stony silence for duration of the short car ride to the local bbq joint that Dean had chosen for them. Castiel had actually heard of the establishment before; it was said to be renowned for its flavorful sauces and particularly tender meat. 

If his chilly demeanor bothered Dean, the other man gave no indication. He drove the Impala with the casual ease of long experience, no trace of tension in his slouched position behind the wheel. Considering how much time he spent traveling with his brother, Dean was probably accustomed to a fair amount of sulking from the right side of the vehicle. Not that Sam would ever admit that that was what he was doing, but it had always seemed that way to Cas. 

The haunting smell of delicious food broke Cas out of his self-imposed silence, and he spoke easily with Dean as they parked the car and headed in. He settled into the greeter’s allocated booth, allowing Dean to guide him through the menu, as Castiel was a little lost at the three pages worth of meat options. 

When the chirpy young woman in the belly-baring tank top flounced over to take their order, Castiel expected Dean to make his typical series of overtures suggesting to their waitress that he’d be amenable to exchanging sex acts if she was interested.

But while Dean was certainly flirty, and obvious in his admiration of the server’s significant assets, he made no attempt to arrange for a later rendezvous. Castiel was certainly no expert, but it seemed like the young woman was disappointed.

On the off chance that Dean had somehow missed the message, Cas waited until she’d dropped off their food, then leaned forward and murmured, “I believe she was hoping to engage you in a more physical relationship.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. He glanced over where the girl leaned over the bar. She glanced back over her shoulder, grinning when Dean flashed her an appreciative smile.

“Yeah. She’s definitely putting out the vibes, all right,” Dean agreed.

“Do you intend to go pursue her personal information?” Cas asked. If Dean was going to make a move on the waitress, Cas hoped her shift ended late enough that he could still secure a ride back. It would be a long walk back to the Gas N Sip.

“Nah, not this time,” Dean demurred, jabbing a French fry in ketchup. “I just got back from taking out a pair of ghouls from an old bone yard. I’m not feeling up to partying right now. I grabbed a motel room across the street earlier so I could shower the dried blood clots out of my hair. I think I’ll just head back and crash there. I’ll finish the drive home tomorrow.”

Castiel was confused. The Bunker wasn’t close, exactly. But it was well within range for a person who loved driving his car the way Dean did, and he had his own room there with a bed that remembered him.

“Sam’s doing research,” Dean said, in response to Cas’ obvious confusion. He shuddered dramatically “I’d prefer to miss as much of that as possible.” 

Ah. That made perfect sense. Castiel’s mind fixated longingly on the thought of a motel room. A private place, where he could sleep in relative quiet on a bed of his own, sounded infinitely preferable to a thready sleeping bag on a pile of popcorn boxes. 

“Umm, Dean,” he began tentatively. “This room you procured? Does it have an extra bed, by any chance?” Sam was nowhere near the motel, so Castiel’s presence would pose no threat to the injured hunter.

Dean grinned, though the smile looked oddly forced, and didn’t extend to his eyes. Guilt, Cas decided, forgiving Dean a little more for ejecting him from the Bunker. Dean was nothing if not loyal, and he considered Cas a friend. Deliberately sending him, newly weakened as he was, away from a place of safety where the Hunter could actively protect him had to be difficult. Cas had been so busy nursing his hurt feelings that he hadn’t given much thought to the fact that Dean had to be carrying a significant amount of regret. 

Dean stood, tossing a number of bills on the table. “Sure. C’mon, let’s head out. I don’t know about you, but I am bushed.”

Castiel followed. The short car ride was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. He waited in the car while Dean went to the motel’s front office to trade his single king for a pair of beds. Dean emerged a minute later and led the way to a corner room.

The motel room was identical to any of the dozens Castiel had manifested into while working with Sam and Dean over the years. It was plain, the wall paper a completely inappropriate colour to compliment the inexpensive furniture. Still, it smelled relatively clean. And it was gloriously private.

Dean tossed his bag at the foot of the nearest bed, clearly claiming it, while he sat down and removed his boots. 

Cas didn’t have much of anything to use to stake a similar claim. After a moment, he removed his baby blue Gas N Sip employee issue vest, neatly folded it into quarters, and set it on the other bed, before taking a seat as well. He was a little tired, but not physically exhausted by any means. The tasks required of him for his job weren’t exactly straining, physically or mentally. 

He watched as Dean stashed his belongings in a well-established pattern that Cas practically knew by heart. The large hunter’s movement was effortlessly and oddly graceful for a man of his size, his motions methodical and economic. Cas had always loved watching Dean move. 

“Do you miss your room at the Bunker?” Cas asked curiously.

“Yeah, sure. But I’ve been on the road all my life; sometimes I just need to get out. Relive the glory years, ya know?” Dean said, pulling out one of his guns for a cleaning.

Cas didn’t know, so he didn’t reply. 

Completing his tasks, Dean came around to sit on the bed across from him. “How about you?” he asked seriously. “Are you really okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cas replied automatically. Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Really,” Cas amended, his tone more genuine. “I’m doing okay. This being human thing has a bit of a learning curve.”

“Tell me about it,” Dean agreed, smiling faintly.

A prolonged silence between the two bothered him. Feeling acutely awkward, Cas got up, absently gazing around the room. Dean stood, as well, the motion triggering Castiel to look back at him inquisitively. There was nothing awkward about the speculative gleam in his eyes, the green a stunning shade that Cas had yet to adequately categorize. 

In the face of such intense focus, Cas automatically took a step pack. Dean took a step forward. Feeling oddly hunted, Cas backed away again, jerking when he found himself backed into a wall. 

Dean stalked toward him, placing his palms on the wall at either side of Cas’ head, boxing him in. Castiel had always known Dean was strong, but it had never affected him with the immediacy of their current position. He swallowed back nerves, the unfamiliar bitter copper taste of adrenaline a coating his tongue. He found himself leaning back as far into the wall as the unforgiving plaster allowed.

“Is this really how it’s gonna be?” Dean asked, gaze serious and maybe a touch hurt. “You only want a piece when you’re the one holding all the aces?”

“I…I don’t understand,” Cas stuttered. But it was a lie. He knew exactly what Dean was referring to. The two of them had been in this position before; many times over. But Castiel had always been an Angel. As strong and skilled as Dean was, he was still merely human. His species was simply no physical match against a soldier of Heaven.

But the situation was drastically different now. Castiel had none of his former strength, and while he was a skilled warrior in his own right, becoming human had changed everything.

Against a powerful, blooded fighter like Dean Winchester, he didn’t stand a chance. Not anymore. Castiel found himself uncomfortably nervous, trapped as he was in the cradle of the other man’s muscular arms.

Was this how Dean felt in any of the dozens of times that Cas had strong-armed him to the nearest flat surface in a rush of lust? The amount of trust he now understood to be implicit in Dean’s easy acceptance of the act both staggered and humbled Cas. 

He’d never, ever, wanted to hurt his friend and occasional lover, but as Cas was only now understanding, there wasn’t really anything Dean could have done to prevent it. It’s not like Dean would have had the opportunity to cut himself and fashion a Banishment sigil in this situation. 

“Cas.” Dean’s voiced brought the Angel back out from his jumbled, confused pile of musings. 

“I need an answer, here, man.”

He hesitated. This was more than a simple yes or no. Was Castiel indeed incapable of taking this to the next level of intimacy if he wasn’t the one with ultimate control? There had been times Dean had taken up the ‘driver seat’ from beginning to end, quite a few times actually, but the underlying fact remained that Cas had always held ultimate power in their coupling. 

And now that the situation was reversed, Cas was more than nervous; he was fucking terrified. 

Whatever Dean read in Cas’ expression, it drained the languid heat from the other man’s expression faster than a bucket of ice water. He leaned back, gaze becoming guarded, the previous openness hidden behind his familiar cool, emotionless mask.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean murmured, taking several steps back, palms up. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.” 

“Dean…” Cas began weakly. Because he did trust Dean absolutely. And really, Castiel always wanted Dean. Ever since that first innocent, curious taste, he’d found himself impossibly addicted to the other man. 

Was he such a coward that he couldn’t handle being intimate unless he was perpetually capable of slamming his partner through several walls? Regardless of whatever issues were clouding his mind, he found that his current, most dominant need was to get that distant, cold look out of Dean’s gaze. 

Dean had looked at him in anger, betrayl, rage, affection, friendship, and lust of course, throughout their time knowing each other. But none of those expressions cut at Cas quite like this. 

“Dean,” Cas tried again.

“It’s really okay,” Dean told him. “I get it. Human. Learning curve. And it’s oka…oomph!” 

Castiel lunged forward, grabbing the Hunter by his shirt and hauling him forward while walking backwards until Cas was backed up to the wall again, Dean’s chest slamming into his with the force of Cas’ pull. 

“No, Dean. You really don’t.” Cas leaned forward, claiming the other man’s lips in a savage kiss. He may not be an Angel, or quite as powerful a human as Dean, but he wasn’t a doormat, either. Cas was plenty strong enough to handle his Hunter. And he certainly wasn’t going to give this up because of irrational fear. 

Dean kissed back with equal force, meeting him and then surpassing his efforts. His hands came up to frame Cas’ face in a way that was surprisingly gentle, holding him still under Dean’s onslaught.

“You get to change your mind, you know,” Dean reminded him, eyes intent. His hands left Cas’ face as he began to pull at clothes, tugging off Cas’ shirt, carelessly snapping the buttons. “That’s always up to you, no matter what we’re doing.”

“Dean,” Cas growled into the Hunter’s talented mouth. “Shut. Up.”

Dean laughed, the sound choked off when Cas shoved his tongue into the other man’s mouth, the kiss messy and rough. Just the way they both liked it.

Cas broke first, gasping. He wasn’t accustomed to having to ration his air supply. He’d have to bear that in mind for future endeavors. Dean had gone still, looking at him, chest heaving under the thin cotton T-shirt. There was no shield over his expression now, the other man’s gaze open as a book. 

Dean was perfectly disheveled, and so, so hot, his eyes burning with a familiar lust tinged with affection. It was Cas’ favorite look, though he’d never thought to tell Dean that. Of course, he liked it even better with less fabric involved.

“You with me?” Dean asked, teasing with his voice, and now his hands as he stroked along Cas naked abdomen.

Always. “Why are you still talking?” he asked, instead.

Dean chuckled at the catty reply and reached down, tugging Cas’ pants down to his knees. An unexpected twist, and Cas was flying, lying on his back on the nearest mattress. Dean crawled over to him, high on his knees while he pulled off the angel’s shoes and pants, leaving him completely naked on the mattress.

“Now, that is much better,” Dean declared with a smirk.

Before Cas could formulate the appropriate response to temper all the smug sitting atop him, Dean leaned down, taking one firm nipple between his teeth, biting hard enough for a sharp burst of pain, even as his tongue lathed the bud.

Cas groaned at the complimentary sensation. Past experience had taught both men that they enjoyed a healthy bite of pain with their pleasure. Both enjoyed feeling each other’s strength, no stranger to being held down and taken. 

The idea sent a brief nervous twinge down Cas’ spine, an unpleasant reminder that he couldn’t just disappear at will, that if Dean plied his full strength on him, that it would be no illusion this time; he’d have to rely entirely on trust. Just as Dean had done for him every other time when he willingly put his body into an Angel’s powerful grip.

That last thought bolstered him, and he didn’t resist when Dean got ahold of his wrists and pinned them above his head, swinging one denim-clad leg over Cas’ body so he knelt astride. The position, Cas decided, was perfectly fine, but the pants had to go. 

He struggled now, pushing against Dean’s hold. Dean applied more pressure, using his body weight to help hold the wriggling x-angel down. Frustrated, Cas lunged up and caught Dean’s lips in a fierce kiss.

“Easy, you,” Dean gentled him down again, kissing back with a teasing nibble. “I’ve got this.” The soft velvet of Dean's lips traveled down and along his neck, eliciting a shiver.

“Well, can you be unclothed while you’re doing that?” Cas demanded. Play aside, he really had put all his strength into breaking the other man’s grip, confirming that Dean absolutely could hold him down. Now that he’d adapted to the notion, accepted that this was Dean, the sensation no longer upset him. It was however, inexplicably and ridiculously hot.

Dean grinned, sitting up, though he kept his thighs locked tight around Cas’ waist. He shrugged out of the sweaty t-shirt. “If you move,” Dean warned, “I’m going to educate you on what ‘tickling’ is, and you will not like it.” 

So saying, he briefly rolled off Cas, just long enough to shuck the rest of his clothing. Cas decided to be a good soldier and follow orders, for now anyway. It was unlikely to last. He’d never been particularly good at that, it was unlikely he’d start now that he was human.

A blink later and Dean was back into place, his newly bare legs tight against Cas’ hips. Cas wasn’t sure what Dean had in mind for them, but as the more experienced partner, it made sense for him to take the lead.

Dean leaned down, catching Cas’ lips in a deep, claiming kiss. It was gentler than when they’d started, more like a caress, a dance of soft lips paired with an incredibly agile tongue. Dean’s kisses had brought Cas to his knees multiple times. Which was not in itself a terrible place to be when a stimulated Dean Winchester was within inches of him. 

“More,” Cas demanded, lips swollen. 

Everything was so much different then any of the previous times he’d engaged in sex acts with Dean, or anyone else for that matter. More intense, more sensation, more emotion, more, more, more. Forget what he’d once said about human sex being repetitive, he could go a thousand lifetimes without getting bored with this.

Dean slid his bare, and rock hard cock against Cas’, the sensation nearly driving him prematurely over the edge. “If you keep doing that to me,” Cas panted, “I’m not going to be able to prevent orgasm.”

“Not so easy without that perfect Angelic control over your vessel, huh?” Dean asked, smirking down at him as he continued his slow, silky grind. 

“Dean,” Cas ground out, thrusting up with his hips to meet the other man’s motions.

“Okay, newly human, let’s take your refractory period for a test drive,” Dean told him, kissing along his chest. Cas pressed up, wanting more attention devoted to his skin. What was it Dean had been saying, again?

“What?” Cas asked before he gasped at a particularly sensitive slide of skin against skin. “I don’t understand that…oh!” 

Dean released Cas’ left wrist, using his right hand taking a firm grip on Cas’ cock and began stroking deft, firm strokes with a twist at the base, exactly the way he knew Cas liked best. Lips, tongue, and teeth grazed his neck, the sensation deliberately traveling along all his previously cataloged hot spots.

Cas didn’t stand a chance in heaven or hell of hanging on. He came with a groan, mind going briefly fuzzy and grey.

“Feels a little different, huh?” Dean asked from somewhere vaguely above him, voice teasing.

“That…that is one way to put it,” Cas panted as he slowly came back down from the flood of endorphins that had overwhelmed his senses.

Dean rolled off his body, lying pressed to Cas’ side while the sated x-angel caught his breath. Dean watched the heaving of Cas’ sweat slicked chest and abdomen with unhidden interest. 

“So,” Cas began once he’d settled down a bit. “What’s next?”

“Hmm?” Dean asked lazily. 

Cas rolled his eyes, shoving the Hunter all the way onto his back. Dean went with it, pillowing his head on his crooked arm, bicep casually bulging in a pose Cas knew wasn’t feigned. Dean was always sexiest when he wasn’t trying, his natural grace and inherent masculinity more stimulating then any practiced moves or poses.

He may be reclining, a figure of casual patience, but his firm erection gave away his interest in the proceedings. Cas was drawn to it, felt the desire to touch the silky hardness. So he did. Dean hissed, eyes sliding shut while Cas stroked him. 

“What do we do now?” Cas reiterated. “Was that all you had planned? Because you still seem…”

“Rock hard, with a set of quickly bluing balls?” Dean asked, his eyes opening to green slits. 

“Yes, that,” Cas agreed, stroking curiously. This felt different, too. 

Dean groaned. “I have ideas. But I’m not sure you’re up for ‘em.” His gaze turned serious. “It may be different for you, now.”

“Dean, ever since I became human, everything has been different. But I’m still me. Complete with the same memories, and body, desires…”

“Okay, okay,” Dean rolled back onto his side, the move dislodging Cas’ stroking hand. “Phase two it is. We take it easy, and you want to take a break, or go slower? You tell me right off.”

“Of course,” Cas lied. He had no intention of slowing Dean down. He wanted to feel everything.

Dean moved onto to his knees, giving his cock an absent stroke to ease the painful hardness. 

Dean caught Castiel’s interested gaze, grinning as he shook his head. “Freaking angel voyeur. Good to know some things never change.”

“You never rescinded permission,” Cas reminded him. The angel had lost count of the number of times he’d invisibly loitered in Dean’s room for no other reason than to simply watch him since the time they’d reached their agreement: observing was allowed; invading his personal space required an empty room and at least minimal warning/conversation. 

Dean didn’t say anything. Instead, he crawled half off the bed, digging through his bag. He popped back up a moment later, negligently tossing a half used bottle of lubricant near the head of the bed.

That’s right. Cas would need that now. Prep and warm up had never really been a priority for him, though he’d happily gone through the motions with Dean when the other man was the intended recipient of penetration. But he hadn’t needed any of that himself, his abilities and control of his vessel more than sufficient.

Cas felt a twinge of nervousness, even as he maneuvered so that he was actually lying with his head at the head of the bed. Everything was new. That didn’t necessarily make it bad, he reminded himself. The last few moments had been definite examples that different could be very, very good. 

He had a fleeting thought of stopping Dean, asking if they could trade places. It seemed safer, easier to take lead position. He’d never felt particularly vulnerable during any type of sex with Dean before now. Of course, that was when he had super strength and could disappear anywhere in the world with a single wing-beat. 

Dean had been slowly making his way up the bed to Cas, the naked, languid crawl a thing of beauty. Their gazes locked and he paused, eyes wary. Waiting. 

Dean was many things, dumb wasn’t one of them. And he was almost supernaturally observant. He must’ve read something of Cas’ hesitation in his body language or expression. If Cas asked, he knew Dean would agree to switch roles. 

For the most part, Dean had never much seemed to care one way or the other how the sex worked out, as long as it ended in orgasms. Except when grief or rage powered him, when he worked out his darker emotions on Cas willing, and endlessly strong body. Cas had always enjoyed that level of his Hunter’s passion and was glad he could be there for him in that capacity, though it saddened him that Dean hurt so deeply. 

Cas realized, he too, could feel emotions at that level now. And he wanted to. Very much. So, he either trusted Dean to take care of him or he didn’t. And if he couldn’t trust him, he didn’t deserve him. Once it was put it that way, it wasn’t even a question.

Cas raised up on his forearms, glaring at the other man with a calculated challenge that never failed to rev the other man up. 

“Why are you still over there?” Cas asked. “You’ll need to be significantly closer if we’re going to have sex, much less the kind involving my...”

Dean gave a bark of laughter, interrupting him mid-sentence. “Always the romantic, aren’t you? I swear, it’s nothing but pink hearts and roses day in and out with you. Sickening.” But he was smiling, moving again so that he was lying next to Cas, skin to skin.

“Relax for me,” Dean murmured, his voice a thick growl. “I've got this.” 

Castiel was about to say...something, but fingers at his entrance derailed his train of thoughts. Bright sparks of pleasure deep inside him made Cas shiver. Closing his eyes and sighing deep, Castiel gave into the sensations thrumming through his body.  
\-------------------

“Dean, “ Cas murmured much later, his hoarse voice soft in the soothing darkness. He hadn't started out hoarse, that had been a gradual result from all the screaming. Dean's skills as a lover had never been in question, but he never truly appreciated it the way a human could.

Night had fallen and neither man showed any interest in rising to turn on lights. The two men were lying next to each other, both naked and comfortable sharing each other space.

As promised, Dean had taken his time with him, making sure Cas’ body was well ready for intrusion before so, so slowly thrusting inside him. He’d taken him spoon style, the position allowing Dean to thrust deeply into Cas’ body while simultaneously allowing access for a talented hand to stroke and tease his cock. It was sensual, intimate, and Cas had relished being cared for so beautifully. The dual sensations from front and behind had proven more than Cas could handle and he’d orgasmed far sooner than he’d have liked. He considered round two, but the dull ache in his previously virgin ass suggested it would be prudent for him to wait on that. 

Cas shifted, not loving the lingering itch from the inevitable stickiness that followed sex. It was all well and good during the act, but the end result was…messy. And itchy. Perhaps even a tad smelly. He’d need a shower soon. But not yet. He was too comfortable curled up against Dean’s body to willingly move. 

One thing Cas knew for certain. Sticky and itchy or not, this was not the only time they would be indulging in sex. Even if he had to storm the bunker, kidnap Dean, and sit on him. His exhausted cock gave an optimistic throb, signaling it was in complete accord with the whole ‘sitting on Dean’ plan. He rolled a bit, wincing at the ache. Stupid mortal body. Maybe round two in the morning. Dean’s ass wasn’t sore, after all. 

“Hmm?” A sleepy Dean responded to his soft query. 

“I remember everything, you know. From before? Becoming human didn’t rob me of a single memory.”

“Good thing,” Dean mumbled. “Cuz you were pretty damn weird when you were crazy.” The naked bee thing still gave him the creeps. And it was incredibly convenient that Cas remembered each and every hot spot on Dean’s body he’d spent the last several years discovering.

Cas wasn’t sure he wanted to bring this up. No, he was positive that he didn’t. But in light of their recent actions, he felt that he needed the closure.

“Dean, I, just…. if you recall when I had absorbed the souls of Purgatory…”

Dean slowly opened his eyes. “You mean that time you turned into a murderous, psycho, all powerful megalomaniac and destroyed half of heaven and tons of folk down here?”

“Yes,” Cas agreed, the guilt a heavy burden on his conscious. “There’s something I did during that time that I need to discuss with you.”

“Cas, we got through it. You eventually healed Sam, better than new, and you did your best to help us deal with the Leviathons. We couldn’t have ganked Dick Roman without you. Far as I’m concerned, we’re good.”

Cas nodded, the gesture lost in the darkness. That Dean had found it in himself to forgive him for his many transgressions still awed him. But there was one specific thing he felt he needed to air out. “What I meant was, there is something that I did during that time, Dean. To you. Something I’d give anything to take back.”

Dean stilled beside him. “You mean that night at the hotel when you snuck in.” It wasn’t a question.

“I didn’t ‘sneak in’, I flew in. But yes, that’s what I’m referring to. What I did to you that night, Dean…”

“I didn’t say ‘no’ Cas,” Dean reminded, his tone gentler then Cas had anticipated, or felt he deserved.

True, Dean hadn’t specifically refused him. He never had, not once in all the years they’d been getting naked with each other.

“I know that,” Cas replied hesitantly. “But it wasn’t as if I really gave you an option. Not with Sam in a forced sleep and my enhanced powers…”

“Hey,” Dean interrupted. “It wasn’t a big deal. You didn’t hurt me, Cas.” Castiel was aware that he hadn’t caused physical pain, but spiritually…he was shocked that Dean was allowing him anywhere near him again, much less with touching privileges.

Dean snaked an arm out and pulled the other man close, assuming ‘big spoon’ in the traditional sleeping arrangement. “Listen up, alright? This is me telling you that it’s okay. You have enough to beat yourself up over. Don’t let some random quickie become more than it was.” 

Castiel wasn’t sure he agreed. It hadn’t been random, and it hadn’t been just the once. But it was clear Dean meant it when he said he’d forgiven him. As evidenced by the careful and generous way he’d popped Cas’ ‘human cherry’ as Dean so cheerfully called it earlier that night. Those gentle, patient movements had been all about care and mutual pleasure, they held nothing of old resentment or a desire for revenge. Though certainly Dean was more than entitled to both.

“Okay, Dean,” Castiel agreed, willing to let it go. Dean really was past it, he could tell. Castiel needed to attempt to do the same. Dean relaxed beside him at the agreement, thought the strong arm around his waist continued to hold him tight. 

Castiel didn’t deserve the other man's stalwart friendship. And maybe he never would. But for now, weak, frail human though he may be, he was comfortably wrapped in the strong arms of the man he’d fallen for. It was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know the details of what went on with Dean and GodCas, i wrote that as well. The New God. It was meant to be paired with this story, but it turned out to work as well as a stand alone, so I posted it by itself. Warning on that one for serious dubcon.


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